Friday, March 6, 2015

He Said, She Said

Gotta Love Spunky Dialog

Today it’s all about
dialog. He Said - She said.

Come with us and eavesdrop
on the characters from our books, as they tease and tantalize one another
verbally. We won’t even tell you
about the books. No blurbs. No narrative. No explanation. We’ll stand aside and let
critics do the talking.

And don't forget to enter our rafflecopter down below for a chance to win $50 Amazon gift card.

Without further ado, come with me. Let us
put our ears to the door and listen to some fun dialog.

A School for Unusual Girls by Kathleen Baldwin

“Georgie’s
budding attraction to a young viscount associate of Miss Stranje is all
flashing eyes and clashing wits à la Lizzie and Darcy . . . romance readers who
prize both brains and valor in a heroine will be pleased to make Georgie’s
acquaintance.” –Kirkus Reviews

With a smirk, he relaxed. “Peace, Miss
Fitzwilliam.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “As Captain Grey
explained, I am a diplomatic attaché. The captain and I are charged with
protecting certain European dignitaries. We require your ink in order to
exchange sensitive messages when the need arises. The old codes and our current
ink formulas are too easily detected. There. That should be explanation
enough.”

I clutched the books to my bosom. It was exactly
what I’d suspected. “So, you are a spy.”

“No. A diplomatic attaché.”

“Which is a fancy way of saying a spy.”

He shook his head. “That bump on your head must’ve
injured your brain.”

“Your concern is touching,” I said, pointing out
that he hadn’t yet asked after my health. “But you needn’t worry, my brain is
quite well. Well enough to deduce the obvious.”

“Apparently not, since you are sorely mistaken. I
am a member of the Office of Foreign Affairs, a diplomat, as was my father, and
his father before him.”

He explained all this using the same tone and
forbearance Miss Grissmore had used when explaining higher mathematics to me
when I was only ten. I found his overblown patience both entertaining and
annoying.

“As such,” he continued, “I am sworn to protect Britain’s
interests and that of her allies. If, on occasion, that means I must go about
my task quietly and without drawing attention to my identity, I only do so in
order to fulfill my duties as a sworn protector of King and country.”

“Quietly.
Yes, I see,” I said, tapping one finger against my lips. “Because, clearly, you
are a spy.”

A Dangerous Passion by E.E. Burke

"It's rare for a novel to pull off a mixture of humor, sharp dialogue, romance and adventure with the right balance and pacing. But, this book does just that... 5 stars!" ~Amazon Reviewer gpangel

Lucy turned to look at the
photograph. Henry’s attention wandered to the tender skin behind her ear. He
longed to put his lips there and explore that sensitive spot, find others that
would make her gasp with pleasure.

“How much more do customers pay to
use the railroad?” Her casual tone indicated she was unaware of the battle he
waged. Passion, lust, whatever one called it, was a fierce beast, which recently had grown to enormous proportions.

“Half what it costs to use the
ferry…and we take them farther.” He redirected his eyes so he wouldn’t be
tempted to give up the fight and drop a kiss on her neck. Instead of gasping
with pleasure, she’d probably beat him senseless with that bag of books.

She leaned forward to peer at the image of a couple in front of a canvas
building with a painted wooden sign overhead. “Who are these people?”

“Mr.
and Mrs. McGrady,” Henry answered. "She traveled with the crew while he was our construction foreman."

“They’re
standing in front of a saloon.”

“One
of McGrady’s men owns the place. Adella thinks nothing of going into saloons,
or anywhere else for that matter.”

When Lucy met his eyes, Henry couldn’t look away. It was damned disconcerting. "So, Adella can follow the railroad, but I can't go to Texas?"

He'd expected her to challenge his decision. At least she was talking to him again. What she assumed to be an insult, he would turn into a compliment. “You’re a gently bred lady.”

“Mrs.
McGrady looks like a lady.”

“She
is, but don’t let her looks fool you. She served as a spy
during the war. You aren’t used to being on your own."

The majority of women liked to coddled. Lucy's frown indicated she wasn't counted among them. “I’m not as inexperienced as you think,
certainly not a piece of china. Why don’t you just admit you don’t want me
around because you’re afraid I might get in the way of whatever plot you’re
hatching?”

“I
plan, I don’t plot, and I have neverhatchedanything.”

The West Texas Watchmen

by Angi Morgan

"Morgan's newest not only has an independent and quirky heroine, but an adorably quirky–and steamy–romance between the hero and heroine. While the playful banter was a nice addition, the storyline also felt fresh and full of intrigue." —4 Stars, Romantic Times Magazine

Andrea threw back her head, laughing. Pete barely heard it as he
admired the bend of her neck. “Silly,” she said. “Do you have any gel?”

“Huh?”Sillywasn’t the word filtering through
his mind.

“Styling gel.”

“I used it already.”

“Not enough to do anything.” She reached around him, brushing his arm
as she squeezed goo into her hands.

Stunned into silence? Choking on his words? Cat got his tongue? He
didn’t know which, and if she asked, he couldn’t hear her. He was focused on
her hands rubbing together and then her arms lifting to reach his head.

“Get shorter.” She tapped the inside of his bare feet wider apart,
leaving enough room between them to breathe without touching.

“Wolf 359. Isn’t that an awesome name for a star?” She took the tube a
second time. “Just a bit more. Your hair’s really thick and wavy. See?”

All he could see was the roundness of each breast.

“All you have to do is squeeze some on your hands and rub it around
like this. Then it should stay looking deliberately messed up all day.” She
wiped her hands on his towel and admired her handiwork. “That will look much
better when it’s dry.”

She twisted one last piece of hair and placed her hands on his
shoulders. It seemed like the most natural gesture in his memory for his
fingers to move and span either side of her waist. They were forehead to
forehead. Her slow, warm exhale smelled sweet like the cola she’d insisted on.

“I’m not a rule breaker, Andrea.”

“Then why are your hands still around me?”

Kissing her was destined as soon as she’d told him they’d never get
along. “What’s about to happen probably shouldn’t. But you won’t find me
apologizing for it later.”

“You better not, Pete. Bad first kissers don’t get a second chance.”

A Private Duel with Agent Gunn

by Jillian Stone

"Fans of the
Gentleman of Scotland Yard series won't be disappointed as Stone weaves a
detective story that entices the reader to keep turning pages. This sexy
thriller pits unlikely characters in a taut plot, twisting threads of the
storyline in unexpected ways. Stone understands the art of romantic suspense
and superbly merges it with history."

Her fingertips dallied, wrapping themselves
around a curve of hamstring muscle. He exhaled a low-pitched groan that lifted
the small hairs on her neck. Would they spend the night here…together?

Quite suddenly she wanted him, and all it took was
a tingle. She also wanted that sapphire. “The Panther Brooch, in exchange for a bit of discovery.”

A soft kiss brushed her earlobe and his hand found
the bodice of her gown. “That would require a good deal of exploration as
well as discovery.”

She reached farther up his thigh, marveling at how well-muscled Finn was. “Male dancers have legs like this, not
many ordinary men.”

There was a sharp intake of air in his answer.
“Must be the fencing lessons—a lot of back and forth, parry and . . . thrust.”

Temporarily Employedby Vicki Batman

“Temping was Never This Exciting, Nor Cops This Hot, or Funny!Okay, I love Vicki Batman’s
writing. Her sense of humor always makes me laugh out loud, so I spent much of
the time choking back my laughter, as I read this book while sitting vigil with
a hospice patient in the middle of the night--author Rochelle Weber

No frisking and no arrests were--so far, in my
book--a good thing. As Sarah Anne’s older brother, I found it easy to eliminate
him from the stalker, murderer, and rapist categories. The something in the truck line sounded similar to approaches used in
past dating experiences. For instance:

“Want to
come up and look at my etchings?”

Translated: A roll in the hay.

Or the ever popular “Would you like to meet Mr. Lizard?”

Translated: Mr. Wiggly Worm.

“How about
coming to my place for a drink?”

Translated: To ply me with multiple drinks and the
requisite roll in the hay.

I hadn’t fallen for those then and wasn’t going to
be a sucker now.

He stuck his hands on his hip and said, “I know
what you’re thinking. I’m not a stalker, murderer, or rapist."

Apparently, he could read minds.

"Just a minute." I closed the door
partially to release the chain, then opened it. “Why can’t you just tell me
whatever it is?”

“No. I want to show you---”

“Not a Picasso?” I asked.

“No.”

“Not an iguana?”

A perplexed expression crossed his face. “A what?”

“Not your pet worm?”

“What pet worm?”

“Not---”

“Look,
I don’t know what you’re thinking. The only worms I know about are for
fishing.”

“You
talk about wanting to find the truth, yet you won’t even consider my
information.”

“It’s
not real. It’s hocus-pocus crap.”

Sarah
shoved her fist into his gut. The hard plane of his abs absorbed her punch. Damn
healthy, strong, stubborn man.

“Sarah,”
he said with a hint of regret.

“What?”
She lifted her chin. “Are you going to arrest me for assaulting a police
officer?”

He
ignored her question. “In the squad room, I got the impression you didn’t want
to be bothered with all your psychic crap.”

“I
don’t, but you guys are about to arrest me. I figure I need all the help I can
get.” She fixed a hard stare on him. “Why are you here?”

“I’m
allowed to be. I’m investigating.” He reached around her. “Now I need something
from you.” He shifted his hand around to the small of her back, which sent a
shiver up her spine. Too easily, their lips could meet. His fingertips brushed
against the fabric of her shirt. She fought the urge to inch forward, afraid of
touching his body. He stared into her eyes then—

The
journal she’d stuffed into the waistline of her pants scraped her skin as he
yanked it free. Without taking his gaze off her, he stepped away. She shifted
her weight from foot to foot, nervous energy gathering within her. As he
scanned the book’s contents, he shook his head. “Are you crazy for taking this?
Do you know how much trouble you’re in?” Gripping her arm, he shoved her toward
the door. “Get out.”

“What?”

“Shut
up and get out, or I will haul your sweet little ass to jail.”

Beauty and The Brit

by Lizbeth Selvig

“I always find it very interesting when American authors write about British characters. I like to see what accent they give them (yes, there are accents in Britain too, we all don’t speak like the Queen), if they describe a town or a region…I find myself chuckling at some of the euphemisms that are used. So…when Lizbeth Selvig announced that she had wrote [sic] a book called Beauty and the Brit, of course I jumped on it and I have to say, I am very glad I did, because she nailed it! I really enjoyed this book…” ~ BRIT NANNY READS.wordpress.com/

“I wouldn’t do
that English chivalry thing in front of the punks around here.” Rio’s eyes
clearly mocked him. “I can’t imagine what kind of field day the neighborhood
gang would have if you opened your mouth.”

“Are you making
fun of my accent?” After ten years in the United States, he was used to the
attention his voice drew and, thanks to BBC America, people gave attention
readily.

“Just keeping it
real. Around here, they’d call your accent ‘pansy-assed’ and give you a beating
for fun.”

Was she just
trying to shock him now? He wasn’t shocked, but he was confused at the way
she’d grown ever cooler and warier. “Well, thanks
much for the warning,” he said. “Clearly I need to keep very quiet while I walk
you to the door.”

A quick, amused
light flared in her eyes, and she allowed her sensuous mouth to twitch upward.
“You should be a lot more nervous than you are. That’s all.” She turned and
headed for the house.

“You live here,”
he replied. “If you’re not afraid, why should I be? I’m just a possible
deterrent to someone jumping out of the bushes.”

“All the more
reason not to look or sound like a dude from Men in Tights.”

“Ah,” he replied,
smiled, and raised the pitch of his voice slightly to quote. “But they’ll
listen to me because, unlike some other Robin Hoods, I can speak with an English accent.”

Bonnie giggled.
Rio stopped and stared as if he’d just belched in church. He laughed and took
her upper arm gently, continuing toward her door. “It’s from the movie?” he
offered. “Robin Hood: Men in Tights?”

“I know that. I just think you must be
insane.”

“Inappropriate
perhaps. Not insane. A bit of levity on a tense night, sorry. I don’t mean to
make light of your fear.”

“Hey.” She pulled
free of his hold. “You said it yourself a minute ago. I’m not afraid. So don’t
think you have to be any kind of superhero.”

So now that you've read some of our snazzy repartee, tell us about your favorite books or movies where the dialog sizzles.

Kathleen is an award-winning Regency author. According to New York Times Book Review, her debut Historical YA romance for Tor Teen (Macmillan), A SCHOOL FOR UNUSUAL GIRLS, "...is enticing from the first sentence."

Shakespeare. Almost all of the characters in just about anything written by Shakespeare have snappy dialogue. I wish modern readers had broader vocabularies so that writers could use more of the amazing and mostly forgotten words that make any conversation sound like "verbal jousting."

Oh I love The Quiet Man. Here's a great scene from it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MkQyRE0byBIAnd here's a snippet from Rio Grande with the two of them - my mother chose my name from this movie - and the song "I'll Take YOu Home again Kathleen"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vRnqJGXgBn4